


Call It Destiny

by ifishouldvanish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: Anyelle, Drabble, F/M, First Meeting, Happy accidents, or... anyacey, rushacey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifishouldvanish/pseuds/ifishouldvanish
Summary: stillsearching47prompted: "What do you get when an astrophysics professor walks into a bar?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stillsearching47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillsearching47/gifts).



Rush welcomed the thick, smoky air as he stormed into the Rabbit Hole on Friday night. He made a beeline for the bar, quickly settling into the first available stool he could find, and wiggled his notebook out of his back pocket. He’d been having a hard time concentrating– at home, in his office at the university, at the park– perhaps a complete 180 in atmosphere would help give him the spark he needed to get some work done.

The din of laughter and conversation was proving to be helpful in keeping his mind from wandering. He'd scrawled down page after page of formulae in his notebook and was finally starting to hit his stride.

But then he felt someone bump into him. It broke his concentration and he took a sharp breath, anxiously tapping his pencil against the bartop as if all of his momentum would vanish in an instant were he to stop moving.

“Hey!” They–  _ she–  _ rested her arm on his backrest and stretched across the counter to flag the bartender down. "Can I get another one of these?" She hollered, wiggling a half-full whiskey glass much too close to Rush's face for comfort.

She bumped into him again, harder this time. Much harder, and he watched with trepidation as his forgotten beer sloshed in its glass, a small amount lapping and splashing over the edge and onto the counter. A drop landed on his open notebook, darkening the open page.  _ That _ was unacceptable.

"Do ye mind?!" He snapped, smacking the flat of his hand against the counter and turning around.

"Hey– What's  _ your _ problem?!"

_ "Some _ of us are trying to get some  _ work _ done." He said icily.

The woman snorted. "It's Friday night at the only decent bar in town. Did it ever  _ occur _ to you that some of us are trying to get some  _ drinking _ done?”

"Well, perhaps you might try getting plastered somewhere out of my personal space, aye?”

Her eyes flickered with something fierce, and Rush felt a flare of something else he hadn't felt in years. “And perhaps  _ you _ might try not being such a  _ dick _ about it!”

He was being a daft cunt, that much was certain, but he couldn't back down now. He had to  _ commit. _ He raised a finger at her, ready to unleash a verbal onslaught.

But instead his hand just trembled.

The girl was wee, even in the ridiculous excuses for shoes she was wearing. Her eyes were impossibly blue, and not a trace of fear was to be found on her face. Not even _ anger. _ It was determination in her eyes, a refusal to be disrespected. The bartender finally came with her new drink, and he was still just pointing an angry finger at her, wetting his lips while his mind went blank.

Having gotten the last word, the woman strut off to one of the pool tables to rejoin her friends.

He let out a huff and swilled down his beer. It was warm by now, and he almost gagged on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the bartender watching him. That wouldn't do. He turned his gaze on the man and scowled. In an instant, he looked away and hurriedly resumed wiping the counter down.

Rush spent the next hour glaring at his notebook, thumbing anxiously through its pages. He wasn't getting any work done. He had calculations to work through, but his mind just kept circling back to those blue eyes. They were so passionate and unintimidated.

He chanced a glance over his shoulder, finding the wee thing laughing and smiling over a pool game with some guy.  _ Knobhead, _ probably. This glance stretched into a stare, and Rush had to remind himself to tear his eyes away.

When he looked back at his notebook, the now dry but still discolored spot on the page grabbed his attention. He glared bitterly at it as though it were the one thing responsible for all the shite he'd ever been dealt in his life, until something clicked.

He adjusted the thin frames of his glasses and leaned in closely. Highlighted by the amber-colored spot on the page was–

_An error._ _A mistake._ Just _sitting_ there, plain as day, staring him in the face. He gently rubbed his pencil's eraser over the erroneous marking, the weakened fiber of the paper pilling and tearing under the stress. Flipping the pencil back around, he decisively put down his correction and smiled to himself.

Weeks–  _ months, _ more like– of beating himself up over the same problem. And then some wee bird comes by, knocks into his drink, and–

Rush looked over his shoulder at her again. He didn't know her name, but he figured at the very least, he owed her a drink. And maybe an apology.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops my hand slipped

“Here,” Rush said, sliding a ten across the counter. “I believe I owe you a drink.”

She stared at the bill hesitantly, unsure of whether or not to accept it. 

“I was a dick.” He admits. “My reaction was... an inordinate response to the stimuli and I… suppose I ought to–” his throat bobbed as he swallowed his pride, _“apologise.”_

Her eyes wandered over his angular features and slight frame. It was as though he was up for inspection and she was checking off a list of benchmarks in her head. Once she'd finished her assessment, she met his eyes and sucked her teeth. “...Alright. But you owe me more than a drink.”

Rush rolled his eyes. The  _ nerve _ of this woman! Here he was, trying to patch up the gaffe he made, but she just won't let it go, will she?! He wasn't even that much of a dick! He wouldn't have been so rude if she hadn't been so bloody careless in the first place!

He took a swig of his beer to buy himself a moment before he could cock everything up again with another outburst, and she slid into the empty stool next to him.

“...Make it two.” She winked, flagging the bartender down.

He sputtered on his drink. “E-excuse me?”

“You're um, kinda cute. ...And maybe I think you're kinda hot when you're angry.” She said, nibbling her lip and wiggling her brows before putting their order in.

_ What in God's name? Was this woman absolutely mad!?  _ She calls him a dick, then comes back later to…  _ pick him up? _

“...I'm  _ what?” _

She tossed a quick look over her shoulder, then smiled back at him. “So. Whaddya got in that notebook that's  _ so _ important?” She asked, peering over his shoulder slightly as if to take a peek while the bartender set two glasses of whiskey down.

Rush eased his shoulders, grateful for the change of subject. “...None of your bloody business,” he said, busying himself by thumbing through its pages. 

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “D’ya need a little help pulling the stick out from your ass?”

He froze and clenched his jaw. “That something you have experience with, Miss–?”

“French.” She finished, taking a swig of her drink. “But you can call me Lacey.”

He gave himself a moment to commit it to memory.  _ Lacey French. Wee bird from the bar with a big mouth. And blue eyes. Really, really blue eyes. _

“Well?” She hung her head and pouted her lips. “Aren’t you gonna tell me yours?”

_ Right. Right. _

He shook his head. “Rush.” He said, extending his hand as the corner of his mouth twitched with discomfort. “Dr Nicholas Rush.”

“Ooh…” she grinned, wiggling her brows and scooting closer as she shook his hand. “A  _ doctor…” _

He rolled his eyes and let go, returning to his notebook.

“...Doctor of what?” She asked.

Rush let out a deep sigh. “Astrophysics.”

Lacey snorted, almost spitting out her drink.  _ “Astrophysics?” _

“I'm sorry– is that  _ funny?” _

“No! No! That’s just not one you hear often, you know? It's actually uh… pretty cool.” She shrugged and gazed off wistfully for a moment.  _ “Dr Nicholas Rush... _ astrophysicist by day, total fucking  _ dick _ by night.”

He was almost startled by the little huff of laughter that escaped him. He tilted his head and scratched at his beard, fidgeting with sudden unspent energy. “Actually, my ah… students would beg to differ.” He said with a little smile. “Rest assured, I'm a fucking cunt all hours of the day.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “So you're  _ used _ to having to apologise, then.”

He furrowed his brows. Sure, he could spit the words out if it meant putting some trivial conflict to bed, but it's not like he had to mean them. Especially when the other party was clearly at fault. “...No.”

Lacey cracked a smile from behind her glass. “So, what– I'm just special?”

“Well, as a matter of fact–” he said, finding the right page of his notepad, “your little incident may have helped me catch a wee error in one my calculations.” He let the notepad drop onto the bartop with a _ smack  _ and tapped a finger on the stain.

_ “My _ incident?” Lacey leaned in to look at the densely packed lines of incomprehensible glyphs and scowled. “Right...”

“Aye. _ Your _ incident.”

She suddenly perked up and gave him a knowing smile. “You're not sorry at all, are you?”

“Of course I–” he cut himself off. “What do you mean?”

Lacey took a hefty swig of her drink. “You're not sorry for being a  _ dick at all!”  _ She laughed. “You just decided you're okay with it now because you got something out of it!”

Rush looked down at his notebook and scoffed.  _ Well, she wasn't wrong. _

“You really  _ are _ a dick!”

He just scratched his beard and shrugged. It’s far from the worst thing he’s been called, and she seems to treating it more like a compliment than anything else.

Lacey looked over her shoulder again. “Well, fair enough.” She said, getting up from her seat and shouldering her bag. “I was just sitting here so that guy over there would leave me alone.”

“You  _ what?” _ He followed her gaze to a man across the bar who was trying and failing to get some redhead’s attention.  _ Well, that made sense.  _ So she's not  _ completely _ mad, then.

“I wasn’t lying though,” Lacey said. She swilled down the rest of her whiskey and slammed the heavy glass back down on the counter. “You really  _ are _ kinda cute. And I like your beard.” She winked.

Rush watched, dumbfounded, as she tugged down the gravity-defying hem of her dress, strut across the bar, and slipped out the door. He began staring a hole into his notepad again, and his hand creeped up involuntarily to touch his scruffy face.

He might need to come to the Rabbit Hole more often. For science.


End file.
